


Stay for Dinner

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're allowed to have bad days, Jean. I'd just like for you to have them a little less often."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay for Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [adorable artwork](http://hdotk.tumblr.com/post/99928335540/gonna-draw-something-dark-and-halloween-y-i) by the [incredibly talented Dot](http://hdotk.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> \--

"Jean?"

Marco's voice rang through the quiet rooms of Jean's apartment, searching. Jean had called him not half an hour before to complain about yet another terrible day at work, and then Marco was backing through his door, keys between his teeth and an armload of groceries hugged to his chest, including what sounded like the loud rustle of a bag of Jean's favorite chips. He shouted again, the sound getting closer as he rounded the corner into Jean's small living room.

"C'mon babe, I know you're here. Don't make me shake the bag."

When he finally caught sight of Jean - sitting in his living room floor, slumped over his knees and still mostly dressed in his work clothes - his face dropped, along with the bag in his hands as he let it fall onto the couch nearby.

"Hey, now..." he said through a lopsided grin, taking a seat on the floor between Jean's feet. He looped his legs over Jean's, bare feet squeezing against hips in something like a hug. "Y'know my mom always said it was a crime for people with pretty smiles to look gloomy."

"Yeah, well your mom also thinks people can get tuberculosis from going outside in winter," Jean mumbled. "I tend not to put much stock in what she has to say."

Marco laughed. "I come over here to cheer you up and you talk shit about my mom." He prodded Jean's arm with his toes, knocking them loose from their fold. Jean let his arms drop to the space between his and Marco's laps, where Marco took his hands and held them.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day, baby." He rubbed his thumb in small circles over the back of Jean's hands, pausing to massage the aching joints of his fingers. Jean sighed, letting himself enjoy the touch for a moment before he returned to the glum reality of his day.

"Just don't know if I'm cut out for this," he told Marco, settling hands on his knees. "Tired of this job already and I've barely started."

He'd been lucky, he often told himself. Landing a position in a law office while he was still years away from his degree was a blessing, even if it amounted to writing, typing and filing endless notes for next to no pay. It was hard to count himself fortunate on the days that he came home with swollen hands and splitting headaches, though.

Marco nodded, squeezing at the back of Jean's knees. "I think you should quit."

Jean shook his head. "I can't just quit, Marco. I'll never get anywhere close to law school without the experience, and --"

"No, I mean quit all of it," Marco amended. "You and I both know you don't wanna be a lawyer."

It was true, and fairly common knowledge to the people that knew Jean well. He'd never really liked the idea of being a lawyer - his dreams were of culinary school, his own restaurant, James Beard awards - but after four solid years of insistence from his parents, he'd caved and gone into the 'family business'. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of being trapped tightening around him.

"I've already sunk two years into this program, babe" he reasoned, more for himself than Marco. "I can't waste--"

"And that's nothing compared to the years you've been cooking. Or the years you'll spend hating your job if you go through with this."

"We've had this conversation before, Marco. How am I gonna support myself if I go back to school for something else? I'd have to drop this job. It would take all the money I've got saved, plus--"

"I'll support you." It was such a simple statement, but one that caught Jean's breath in his throat just thinking about its heavy implications. "Move in with me. You said you would after you got your degree anyway - why not just do it now?"

"Because I can't afford a decent place for us now, much less if I scrap everything and go back to school." He raked a hand through his hair, already a disaster from the frustrated way he'd been tugging at it since he'd gotten home. Marco reached forward and smoothed it back into place, brushing a stray strand or two behind his ear.

"Any place is fine with me as long as you're in it." He smiled, and Jean's face burnt so badly he dropped it back into crossed arms. Marco didn't lift his face; he swirled fingers over Jean's neck in soothing patterns, his voice just as patient as he spoke. "Look; I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. And I want you to be happy, every day. Or at least most of the time."

"Sounds nice." Jean mumbled into the fabric of his sleeves. Marco chuckled and scratched gently at the shorter, darker hair near the top of his neck.

"And I think you should do what you want to do. It's not too late to start over - it's never gonna be."

Jean raised his face, still leaning on his arms. "So you'll stick around if I'm unemployed and living on ramen noodles?"

Marco nodded. "I've seen what you can do with ramen noodles - I'd be eating better than I am now."

A simple, silly reply, perhaps - but there was an unspoken promise of security in it. No matter what Jean chose to do, Marco wanted to be beside him in it. For the first time in nearly half a decade, he let himself imagine the walls of a kitchen, a restaurant, a dream he'd swallowed long ago. It was a pleasant sting, the anxiety of potentially chasing it after trying to forget it for so long.

"I'm glad you came by," he said after a few minutes, willing himself not to cry. "Sorry I'm such a downer." He rubbed at the inside of Marco's legs self-consciously. Marco leaned back onto splayed hands to look at him, smiling softly.

"You're allowed to have bad days, Jean. I'd just like for you to have them a little less often." He leaned in to close the distance between them, kissing Jean with all the tenderness of his soft, sweet reassurances. Jean let his eyes fall closed and breathed him in, more than happy to pull him into his lap and just hold him, forgetting about the past and the future and _everything_ outside his living room for just a short time. Marco leaned against him, sighing between kisses.

"Mm, love you," he breathed, pushing them both backward.

Jean let himself lie back the rest of the way, the tension in his shoulders melting away as his back flattened out on the floor. He ran his hands over Marco's hips, tugging at his belt loops. "You wanna stick around for the night?"

Marco propped himself on his hands, hovering over Jean with a sly smile. "Only if you'll make me dinner."

Jean looped an arm around his neck, looking up at him with a grin before pulling him flush against him on the floor. "I think I can handle that."


End file.
